Finding Oneself
by HighFunctioningSociapath
Summary: Sherlock can't take it anymore, what happens when he leaves 221B and try's to start a new life? Sherlock/Anthea FIRST FIC! Work In Progress. Like the cover? Made it myself. :P Took me HOURS.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes. Would this be a fic otherwise? Naw, it'd be reality Bruv.  
>AN: WOOT! First fic, Hopefully it'll meet your standards. Let's hope it doesn't make people, myself included, cringe with the horribleness of it okay?  
>Prologue<strong>

"I can't do it any-more John." Sherlock said.  
>Although he wouldn't show it, John was sure he could see doubt and fear in his eyes. And considering Sherlock Holmes was widely known for his condescending nature and completely devoid of any emotion at all, this was a huge worry for him.<p>

"Sherlock, listen to me. I know this isn't what you want to hear but you have to trust me, it will go away. You just need time to heal, what you experienced was nothing anyone should have to go through, what Mycroft told you was a very serious matter. Noone expects you to behave differently, not even the great Sherlock Holmes can hold his oh-so-convincing façade in a situation like this."

John tried to comfort him, even though he could see plainly it wasn't working at all. Sherlock Holmes was not easily convinced.  
>"John, try to understand what I'm about to tell you."<br>"Sherlock? Are you okay?" John asked, masking the rising panic he now felt in his chest.

"I'm leaving."  
>That was it, straight to the point. No emotion. Just those two words. The feeling of panic he had experienced on his chest erupted into an all out volcano of anxiety and worry. As much as he tried, John Hamish Watson just could not understand why he would leave. Of course the recent events had been particularly disturbing, but was it enough to leave?<p>

To leave behind everything he had?

His friends?

His family?

He couldn't get his around the fact that he was leaving. He just sat there, pale and openly shocked and quite frankly disturbed by this sudden decision in Sherlock that he barely noticed the words...  
>"Goodbye, John."<br>...and the closing of a door in front of him.  
>That was it, the last he would ever see of William Sherlock Scott Holmes.<p>

A/N: So, What did you think? Was it bad? *nervous* Anything I could maybe improve on? After all, that's why the review system is in place, soooo...

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	2. Revelations

**Disclaimer: Ah, if only I owned Sherlock Holmes...  
>AN: And here we go, first PROPER chapter of the story. This will clear up what was said in the last chapter.**

EasierSaidThanDone: Thanks for your review! I'm going to try and update as much as I can, which should be around weekly with my current schedule. It is likely to change though, maybe for better, maybe for worse. I hope the former though :D. Thanks for your kind words, I hope I can continue to make it the best I can. All in all I wouldn't say it's a bad job for my first fic. ;P

**Chapter 1: Revelations**

**2 Days Earlier**

It was a cold, grey morning in England. The Holmes family were gathered at their house for a re-union, much to the two older children's dismay. Nearly all of the Holmes' family were there, surprisingly enough even their cousins from America decided to grace them with their presence, a rare occurrence. Sherlock had just come back from having solved a particularly puzzling case, which naturally meant that he would be even more moodier due to being bored at having nothing to work on. Naturally, he decided to eavesdrop on a conversation in the lounge:

"Timothy! Cheryl! Oh how delightful it is to see you!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed.

"Likewise, Anita." The couple replied.

"Where's my favourite nephew then?" Cheryl asked.

"Where do you think? He just came off from a case, so he's in a bit of a mood at the minute."

"*chuckles* Maybe I can go calm him down. After all, I _am_ his favourite aunt." Came Cheryl's Reply.

"I wouldn't if I were you , he told me he needs a bit of time to himself at the moment. In other words, Bog off." Anita said.

"As always, that child needs to sort his attitude out." Timothy put in.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the last comment, amused at his uncle. He turned around smirking to himself when he saw a sight he never thought possible...

Mycroft, shed ding a silent tear.

"Sh-Sherlock, Can we talk a moment?"

"I suppose." Came Sherlock's reply, not really sure on how to respond to this situation.

He followed Mycroft into the yard. Just a short distance from the huge manor where everyone was congregated. It was then that Mycroft spoke, and it came in a tone that alarmed Sherlock. Well, as alarmed as the emotionless man could possibly be, anyway.

"Sherlock, It's time I told you something I should have told you a long time ago."

"And what may that be, Dearest Brother?"

"It happened when you were 7. I was out working with the Prime Minister when I received a report that you had been missing for several hours, naturally I got onto the matter as quickly as I could."

"Forgive my interruption, Brother, but I fail to see why this should elicit an emotional response from you."

Mycroft winced ever-so-slightly at that last comment, nevertheless he carried on...

"Because you were nearly killed Sherlock. You had been missing for 2 months before we found you, by then you were quite literally between the boundaries of life and death. You had been tortured endlessly. Every bone in your body was broken and you were as pale as ice, having lost so much blood. There were slash marks all over your body from being cut. You had been poisoned. A-and you had been branded. Ever wondered what that M was on the back of your shoulder? It's short for Moriarty. They branded you as their own, but we found you before they could lay claim to you. It took you years to heal."

Mycroft said that last bit with no emotion at all, forcing himself to remain calm otherwise he knew he would break into hysterical sobs. No matter how much anyone denied it, Mycroft Holmes did have a heart. And It cared deeply for his little brother.

"How come I don't remember any of it then?" Sherlock said, horror etched onto his face. Speaking barely above a whisper so that his brother had to strain his ears to hear his words.

"Quite simple really, I deleted the memories. I didn't want you to live the rest of your life being shadowed by those thoughts. The way you are now Sherlock, devoid of emotion, was my doing. I forced it upon you so that you wouldn't feel the pain and anxiety that was sure to come later on in your life."

"Forgive me Brother, but I-I..." Sherlock whispered. Never before had Sherlock felt such a powerful emotional impulse. And never again did he want to experience it.

"I understand. I hope I shall see you soon. Sherlock." Mycroft felt such a strong urge of protection and sympathy for his brother that he decided to use his first name. Somehow it felt natural, more natural that _dear brother_ or _brother, _so he decided to use his actual name from now on.

Little did Mycroft know what the repercussions of his Revelation would be, because at that same time, two days in the future, his brother would make a choice that would change everyone he knew's lives.

**A/N: So yey! Second, or first, depends on how you look at it, chapter done! I myself thought I did a good job on this one, hopefully it cleared up some things in the last chapter.**  
><strong>Before I forget...<strong>

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	3. Ghost of a Man

**Disclaimer: NO I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK HOLMES. Happy?  
>AN: Yey another chapter, so I decided to make this a Sherlock/Anthea fic instead of Sherlock/OC because you hardly ever see the combination. It'd be a safe bet none of you ever had. So I changed it to that to give it my own twist of Originality. Just as a heads up this chapter will be based mainly around Anthea, with a few bits of Sherlock in there. Now enough with my babbling, and on with the story! **

**Chapter 2: Ghost of a Man**

Anthea was sitting in her house. Surprisingly since she was usually at work for her boss, Mycroft Holmes. As usual she was texting away relentlessly on her Blackberry, to a couple of her sources of information. Even though her boss technically _was _the British government in person, she had a few tricks up her sleeve. And her boss didn't know she had been getting information he wouldn't tell her, not that he didn't trust her. Recently she noticed her boss becoming more and more distressed, and Sherlock had not visited in about 2 weeks now, a surprising turn of events. One that for some reason seemed to disturb her, though she refused to accept it. She had also noticed that Sherlock was never at 221B now and had bought a flat somewhere else in the city, where noone would disturb him, he wouldn't even let his best friend of many years any where near him. His exploits were still advertised in the media, even though they were always negative about the Sociapath. She, however, refused to believe the lies the media spread about him. Because in the silent times they spent together, as they rode to her boss' house, she learned a lot more about him. She had even pestered his brother for information on him, she had no idea what brung about this sudden interest in Sherlock Holmes but she thought nothing of it. _It's just friendly concern._ She kept telling herself.

Half an hour later she decided to take a walk around Paddington Street Gardens, only to bump into a certain raven haired detective...

"Oh! Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." Anthea apologized.

"No problem. Anthea, was it?"

That voice, it sounded familiar to her. She looked up and her heart went into an unexplained flutter, ignoring it she paid more attention to the fact that the consulting detective was looking considerably worse for wear.

"Sherlock? What are you doing here? Look at you! You look terrible!"

Terrible was an understatement, after all, he had just underwent a traumatizing revelation by his brother. Other that the fact he was deep in the clutches of depression, his frame had deteriorated considerably, and his searing cerulean-grey eyes took on a sunken and haunted look.

"N-Nothing, I'm fine." He blurt out, too quickly.

"Are you sure? You really don't look too well"

"I'm Fine, I must be going now. Goodbye Anthea." He insisted.

_Oh mygod, the my name just rolls off his tongue, it's intoxicating. _She stopped those thoughts almost as soon as she started. She has no idea what spurred those thoughts but she was determined not to let them take over her. She watched him walk away from her, looking quickly away upon realising she was staring at him.

The rest of the day she spent thinking about him, how helpless he looked, how desperate, how depressed. Later that evening in her house she deduced that this was the reason her boss was acting more distressed, he was obviously worried about his brother. And for good reasons too, he was completely different from how he looked only 3 weeks ago. This and the reason he hadn't shown up at his house, or even seen him at all, in a while. She could only wonder what spurred this change in Sherlock. Looking back upon their brief encounter in the park she couldn't help but realise he hadn't had any contact with anyone he knew lately. He look more like a shell, a Ghost of a Man. And it worried her.

**A/N: Done! So that's the third chapter done, another chapter for another story. I rather enjoyed writing this one, not exactly sure why but it just felt enjoyable. More so than I usually find writing to be. Maybe i'm just in a happy mood. :P Anyway, i'll let you get back to your 'mundane' lives as our favourite consulting detective puts it. Goodbye!**

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